I read that abuse survivors will actually start to suffer more from the effects of their abuse once they reach a safe place and begin to process the experience (kind of a "it gets worse before it gets better" situation), so… here's just a little bit of that with our poor Horde kiddos.

Catra had only been with the Rebellion two weeks when the nightmares started.

It wasn't fair, really. She'd spent months living in the wilds after leaving the Horde, looking over her shoulder every few minutes expecting to find that a squad had finally hunted her down-but now the nightmares chose to come? Now, when she felt safer than ever?

It wasn't fair. But then, the universe had never seemed particularly concerned with fairness when it came to her.

Out of habit, Catra began to run through a list of calming techniques. Her eyes had shot open when the dream came to an abrupt end, now she forced them to focus on her surroundings. Focus on what her senses told her, not what her mind feared. Sight first: the pastel colors and smooth walls of Adora's room, soft blue moonlight illuminating the floor in angular patches. Hearing: her own breathing; ragged and too fast. Touch: she felt the blanket beneath her; soft, not scratchy like those in the Horde. She felt the chill of the night air against her sweat-soaked skin, and felt the warmth of Adora's legs from where her back was pressed against them. She felt-she felt fine, if only she could stop shaking-

The legs stirred. "Catra?" Adora's voice was rough with sleep, but sounded concerned. So she hadn't managed to regulate her panicked breathing fast enough. Catra barely managed not to jump when a familiar hand came to rest on her shoulder, but she couldn't hide the shaking that wouldn't stop, or the way her traitorous eyes had filled with tears.

"Oh, Catra." The voice was sad. It was dark, and Catra's vision was too blurred to see clearly, but she wouldn't have wanted to see the other girl's expression even if she could.

I don't need your pity.

Good, because this isn't pity.

"Come on," Adora said, laying back down on her side and lifting the blanket in an unspoken invitation. Nights like these, it helped to be close. The nearness of the other acted like a shield, somehow, a warm and comforting presence to drive the nightmares away.

Still, Catra couldn't yet find it in herself to simply accept these gestures, no matter how much she appreciated them.

Needed them.

"I don't need a princess cuddle-fest," came Catra's half-hearted protest.

"Please." The request was quiet, and it made Adora the weak one for asking; not her for accepting. A flimsy excuse, perhaps, but it was the best she could do these days. Catra crawled toward the pillow and lay her head on it with a sigh that was supposed to be exasperated, but just ended up sounding relieved.

Adora regarded her from across the pillow, eyes half-lidded. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Catra's gaze darted away as she shook her head.

"Okay."

The shaking had lessened to an unpleasant tremble, a shiver she couldn't control. Adora reached for her hand, clasping it like they had when they were children. Physical contact was iffy after one of her dreams, but this… this helped. She let it ground her, the warmth and strength of the contact anchoring her to reality. A reality where the familiar terrors of her dreams could no longer reach. Slowly, slowly, she felt the trembling lessen, and her eyelids grow heavy with sleep.

"Good night, Catra." The words were little more than a whisper.

She paused on the verge of drifting off, weighing whether to respond or pretend she hadn't heard.

"'Night, Adora."

Short, I know, but I might add chapters in the future-there's plenty of angst for these poor kids to work through. :p

Let me know if you liked it!

(This story also posted on archiveofourown)